Black Host
by InkOfThePearl
Summary: "I am a host. It goes without saying that I can manage something like this." Ciel Phantomhive's encounter with an unusual host causes him to be thrown into a world he does not seem to understand. But maybe he has use for this host after all... [Rated M for later chapters][AU] [First Draft]
1. Chapter 1

Somethings you should know about the story: Ciel is about 16 in the story. Takes place in modern times. It is set in a neo-London (different from what you and I may know, anything could happen!)

I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters.

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Ciel Phantomhive was going to kill somebody the end of the night.

At least that is what the sixteen-year-old boy's aura gave out.

He gritted his teeth as he uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 'Were the shoes really necessary?' he mentally questioned his aunt at the other side of the dim room.

Ciel's brow twitched in irritation when he saw the lady in red, oblivious to the boy's glare, laugh aloud. Madam Red, as she was reasonably dubbed, would continue her flirting with every man that sat by her in that small corner booth, even if her own nephew happened to be a witness.

_'Have you no decorum, Madam?'_

He finally turned away when she grabbed the ass of the server closest to her, emitting once more a loud guffaw that made many heads turn in that direction. He again pondered how two such different people could be related, by blood no less.

The exasperated Phantomhive sighed as he walked towards the bar stool furthest away from the crowd.

It was easier said than done. The pointed heels sank slightly into the plush carpets, making him conscious of every step he was bad enough that he lost a bet and had to come to this club in the first place, but was the dress really necessary?

_"Of course it is," _Madam Red had told him with a mischievous glint in those red-hue eyes._ "Part of the bet was that the __**loser**__ would do __**anything**__ for the winner. Come, come, Ciel, I know you won't go back on your word, would you?"_

She was right, though. The Phantomhive, like those of the same name before him, was too prideful for his own good and would stay true to he promises, even if someone cheated to win. But then again, did he not say himself that one must do whatever they can to reach their goal?

Perhaps he had to amend his philosophies, he thought as he sat on the bar stool and swiveled around. His accursed pride is what got him into situations like this. Yes, there were some close calls, but none more…embarrassing as this.

Ciel looked down at the dress once more. It was a black off-sleeve number with the hem just short of reaching his knees. The bodice had two pink (pink!) lines running down the front until the waist, where the material was gathered in intricate folds, making the skirt balloon slightly, and revealing the another hem of white lace underneath. The pink lines made a cross garter pattern on the reverse side of the bodice while the neckline was bordered pink with black lines running along it.

Saying that he looked beautiful annoyed the boy but not as much as would have. No, what irritated Ciel the most was the fact that the dress fit him perfectly; the waist, the arms, all hugged his small frame comfortably (well, as comfortable as he could be in a dress).The shoes were his size and even the hair extensions he wore (which itched oh-so irritatingly) were the _exact_ blue-gray of his natural hair.

Almost as if someone had prepared for such an instance. The boy turned in the direct of his aunt once more to give her another deathly stare, and once more receiving no reaction.

Ciel resigned and looked about the room for the second time tonight, he tapping his heel-clad foot impatiently, only this time he noticed a few more details than when he first entered.

The club was different from he expected to say the least. There was neither blaring dance music nor irritating strobes to assault his senses. Instead, he found himself in lounge of some sheer quietness was alleviated by the smooth jazz, the slight clink of glasses and the incoherent buzz of conversation(and of course, Madam Red).

The walls had no windows. There wouldn't be, of course for the club was underground, connected to the outside world be a short flight of stone stairs and shut from it off by the large dark-wood doors that served as an room itself was dimly lit only to the extent of maintaining a romantic dinner sort of atmosphere, complemented by the tasteful decor of coffee colours and whites, colours that were accentuated by a subtle smell of coffee and cream that hung in the air. What would have been prime dance-floor areas were substituted with carpeted floors with small tables and sitting spaces spread here and there while divided and half-concealed booths bordered the far end of the room.

At the back, Ciel also noticed another set of doors that only the staff seemed to use. He also noticed that most of said staff and servers were male and wore no definite uniform, though all wore dress clothes consisting of well-tailored jackets and designer shirts.

Moreover, he noted, that most of the clientele were female, ages seeming to range from mid-twenties to late it appeared that this staff had a different duty towards said clientele as well.

Their 'service' didn't just stop at bringing a lady the drink she wanted with a pasted plastic smile and then leave. No; he would sit himself near her, and proceed to talk, laugh and flirt with his customer, who in turn reciprocated such actions with fits of giggles and blushes.

The corners of Ciel's mouth twitched as he observed these slight details to instantaneously put two and two together: his aunt had not just dragged the boy to any club...

A host club. An actual, honest to earth host club where men act as escorts to frivolous women with loose purse strings for an evening.

He had heard of them abroad, yes, but how Madam Red had found one in the streets of London, he could not (neither wanted to) imagine. But that was not the point. she had taken him, her _nephew_, to a host club. And dressed as a girl, he must have looked like...

This was_ beyond_ embarrassment. The boy groaned under his breath, wanting this night to end as fast as it could. He wanted to go home, to get rid of this blasted dress (use it as fuel for a bonfire, perhaps?), and to crawl into in cozy bed and-

"Is something the matter… my lady?"

Ciel almost jumped right out of his seat at the voice behind him and collected his wits before turning around.

Behind the bar stood a man dressed completely in black; his hair was black, his dress jacket and pants (which fit a tad too snuggly) were black, the coat of nail polish on his fingers was couldn't see his shoes from where he sat, but he had a good guess what colour they were. In fact, the only things about him that weren't were his pale skin devoid of any blemishes, his slightly pink lips that were now upturned slightly in a smile, his dress shirt which was not exactly black but a very dark grey and his eyes. They were a shade of red that Ciel had never seen before (Madam Red's were as well but they weren't nearly as brilliant a scarlet as his),and now, they were focused on Ciel's.

He, distracted by them, was silent for a while before he realising that he was asked a question

"Excu-," stopped, remembering that he was supposed to be a girl. "Excuse me?" he said in an effeminate voice.

"I asked if something was troubling you, miss," he replied smoothly.

"No-no, nothing is wrong…"

"Are you, perhaps, waiting for someone in particular?" The bartender asked as he reached for a small highball glass from the shelf.

It took a while (almost a whole minute) for Ciel to understood what he meant, and when he did, the immediate blush covered his face at the implication. He averted his gaze, and biting down his tongue, shook his head "no".

"Oh?" the man drawled. "Could this be your first time, then, at a place like this?"

The boy looked up at the amusement in his voice and saw the older man smiling at him, a smile that widened when he saw Cie's slightly annoyed look.

_'And last time',_ Ciel wanted to say, but sufficed for a slight nod.

Then, leaning closer as if telling a secret, the man said, "You really do not belong here, do you?"

The boy's blue eyes blinked for a moment before giving an expression that said he didn't know what he was talking about.

"You are… under aged," he finished, a mysterious tone in his voice

Ciel controlled the urge to sigh in relief, but that pause piqued him. _'He's playing with me?'_ It was the truth, however; whether he was male or female, he still wasn't twenty-one. Far from it in fact. But just how obvious was it? And what else was evident about him?

"Yes, I am actually," he admitted without an ounce of regret. "But I'm not interested in drinking or doing anything here. I'm just accompanying my aunt," the 'girl' explained. "She's right over there." He pointed to the Madam's booth.

"I saw you enter with her but I would have never guessed that you were related."_ 'That makes two of us', _thought Ciel. "Madam Red is your aunt?"

He received a nod, a reluctant admittance.

"Is that so?" the bartender continued. "She is frequent customer; she seems to like talking-"

"Yeah, that's Aunt Red for you-"

"-but in all her stories she had never mentioned a niece."

Damn.

"She talks about her 'adorable' nephew quite a bit though..."

Double damn.

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_Thank you for reading the first chapter of "**Black Host**". (Yup, first of many (depends,actually))_

_This is my first Fan Fiction (at least the first I've written out), so any reviews(no matter how harsh :3) are welcome and much appreciated and will also decide if I continue the story or not._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters.

BLACK HOST | CHAPTER 02

'_Do you hold nothing back from strangers, Madam Red?'_

Ciel looked at the stranger cautiously. "O-oh, you must mean my...brother."

"Brother?" If he didn't believe it, he hid it well.

"Yeah, our aunt adores him; once she starts talking about him, that's all she talk of," Ciel concluded with a nervous laugh. _'So much for flying under the radar...'_

"You don't say," the man smiled, and the blue-eyed boy caught an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Ciel simply nodded, hoping that the 'conversation' would be dropped.

Unfortunately, things didn't seem to be going his way tonight.

"Well, the night is still young. You could sneak away any time you want."

"And what makes you think that I would want to?" Ciel asked, not regretting that his voice had a slight bite to it.

"Forgive me for presuming-" though the look on his face was far from apologetic "-but from what I observed,it seemed like you were... uncomfortable. Perhaps you do not wish to be here?" the man questioned as he wiped the highball glass to a sparkling shine.

"Observed?" the boy repeated, incredulous. "You were watching me?"

"I watch everyone here infact."The unknown bartender raised his index finger to his lips and smiled once more. "In my line of work, observation is essential. Would not you agree?"

The boy furrowed his brow in incomprehension. He motioned Ciel closer.

"For instance," the man continued in a low voice as he extended a finger towards a table, " see that woman sitting over there?"

Ciel turned slowly to see the person he indicated to. The middle-aged woman had a face covered with a thick layer of makeup that still revealed minute creases, and she wore a dress that revealed much more that was obviously the creation of a plastic surgeon.

"Does it not appear like she is trying to hide from the truth a bit? Perhaps it's a fear of growing old as most humans have; she wants to look as young as she feels To her, someone like Lucas would be a good companion for the evening."

Ciel watched a host with honey-coloured hair walked to the woman. He looked as old as the other hosts around the room, but he had a lively expression and a cheery grin that made him seem younger. He and the lady began speaking and just a few minutes later, he had her giggling like school girl and affectionately swatting him on his shoulder. At that moment, she didn't seem to care at all that her laugh lines could be seen. In fact, she appeared to be more full of life.

"Maybe that was an easy example. Let's take the lady one that side," the man resumed. "Could you tell by looking at her that she has a fetish for glasses?"

Ciel's eyes widened in disbelief as he turned from the brunette woman back to the man and waited for him to continue.

"Note how she tends to dart her eyes to Claude any chance she gets," he nodded towards a tall host with black hair and silver-rimmed glasses. " The moment she entered, she was focused on him."

"That isn't credible evidence," the Phantomhive pointed out, smiling. "She could just have formed a crush at first sight."

The man let out a small chuckle and leaned closer. Ciel got the scent of whatever woodsy cologne he was wearing; it was much welcomed by the boy who was smothered by the feminine perfumes of the room. "If Claude were to remove his glasses, she would not stare at him as intently. Everytime she visits, she chooses the one wearing glasses, no matter who it might be, actually." He straightened himself and added mint and sugar to the glass in his hand.

"You see, everybody has… preferences. About everything, infact: what they do,what kind of clothes they wear, what they eat,where they go, with whom they like to associate. And everybody gives subtle in their voice, their movement, or what they say. In our line of work, the better we observe those hints, the better we can accommodate out customers."

He retrieved a bottle from under the counter and poured a little its clear liquid in with the rest of the ingredients. Ciel held his patience as the bartender, also took out a pestle-like muddler and skillfully bruised the mint. Leaving it to infuse, he placed his hands on the counter and continued:

"It is our job to make sure that anybody who walks in through those door finds whatever they came here for tonight, beit an escape from everyday life, a relaxing night out or simply pleasant conversation," he said as he pulled out another glass, filled it with crushed ice, and poured in the earlier mixture through a strainer. He poured the liquid from a different bottle at a length until the glass was just full. He garnished it with another sprig of mint before he kept it in front of Ciel on a coaster, who looked at it and then back at the bartender.

"On the house. It's non-alcoholic," he added, reminding Ciel once again that he was a minor.

"I'm sorry," the boy began again shaking his head, "I do not understand why you are telling me these things." He disliked purposeless things.

"Like I said, a customer's enjoyment is our main priority."

"Oh? This was meant to be fun, then?" His tone dripped with indifference.

The enigmatic stranger smiled. "To act as a distraction from what may be troubling you might be my priority as well."

Oh. Ciel had forgotten about that. However now with that acknowledgement, he felt more conscious of himself.

"Thank you," stammered the boy in the dress. "But I still don't get why you would give away your secrets as they were."

"As I mentioned before: everybody gives out secrets. One of mine for one of your's...miss," the stranger smirked once more, adjusting his suit jacket before pulling out a black card from an inner pocket. He placed it next to the drink on the bar. "If there is anything you need, go not hesitate to ask."

Ciel looked down at the calling card a good did it not seem like the man was talking about his age? When he looked back up again, the man was leaving. "Wait!" The boy hastily picked it it, in simple white script, written was

Sebastian Michaelis  
Club E

"Wait, Michaelis!" he rushed out in a low voice as to not make heads turn.

The host stopped and turned slightly but made no indication of walking back. Instead he arched an eyebrow in question and waited.

"Tell me what you mean."

Sebastian brought his forefinger to his lips that were upturned in a smirk. Just that: a secret. Before Ciel say or do anything, the man turned and walked out through the back doors.

The young Phantomhive stared at the card.

He frowned at himself. Had that host really seen through him? The thought cause his face to flush red. Wait. It didn't really matter, did it? He would never see him again, the man wouldn't recognize him without these clothes, and the chances of their social circles ever meeting were almost non existent.

Ciel took out his mobile from the bag he wore across body (why on earth did not dresses have pockets?), and dialled his aunts number, shooting quick glances at her direction. He didn't want to approach her and her crowd to avoid further embarrassment.

He tapped a finger on the counter impatiently as the phone rung. He looked at the drink that was in front of him, the condensation now dampening the felt coaster it was on. He wasn't going to drink it, of course. That was be incredibly foolish on his part, to trust anyone he only just met, especially at a place like this.

The tone finally changed on the phone. "Madam Red, I -"

"_You have reached Angelina Dalles. I can't come to the phone right now…"_ Ciel was cut off by the automated voice mail. Damn, she wasn't picking up. He sighed and waited for the beep at the end of the message.

"Madam Red, it's Ciel. I'm calling night and heading back home. I'll be taking a taxi. Talk to you tomorrow. Good night."

But his evening wasn't over just yet.

~[O]~

_**InkOfThePearl**__ here!  
Excited to get response from everyone. The story is still raw and progressing quite slowly, but it is progressing after all! Please continue all your support!_

_Please remember to review and give me some feedback (it's really encouraging :D ) !_

_Also a big "Thank you" to my first reviewers, __**promocat**__ and __**cielxbassy**__ !:D_


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